Winter
by Katrina Littlebird
Summary: AU Harry Potter has not been seen since Voldemort kidnapped him from Godric’s Hollow. It is 1995, Voldemort is in control, Hogwarts is under Umbridge’s tyranny, and two Gryffindor prefects strike a strange bond with a special feral boy.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything. The characters and the spells and many of the concepts come from J.K. Rowling. And even though this is my alternate universe, it is obvious that half the stuff is leeched off hers. So let's not sue me, so I can write the story.

**A/N: **Well, I got inspired by a few A/U stories I have been reading, and I've been wanting to write this one for a long time. So lo and behold, I decided to write it down and post it and give myself another fic to worry about. This fic starts off slow, but will take off really fast once we fast forward a few years. This prologue is a setup of the things to come. Just remember that this fic will not offer a smooth ride!

There will be slight Harry/Hermione near the middle and at the end, but it isn't significant to the plot, just significant to the characterizations and Harry-torture. P

There will be OoTP spoilers, but c'mon, I'm sure EVERYONE read five books. . If I may make a generalizations…

Enjoy now! Or not, of course…

**_WINTER _**

By: Katrina

**Prologue**

The stone floor was cold, and the drafts from the window did not help, but Wormtail knew better than to complain, especially not when he was used to discomfort. And especially not now, not after what he'd just done to two people who had once mattered to him. But he did not want to think about that now. His Gryffindor courage had long deserted him and he knew that he would go insane if he were to replay that scene again.

Instead, he tried to concentrate on the child who was playing by himself in the corner, unaware that he had just been snatched from his mother's arms by a traitor. The one-year-old boy merely thought that his Uncle Wormtail had taken him out to play, and would take him back home in a couple of hours, as he always did.

Except this time, Harry Potter had no home to return to.

Wormtail stood up and almost ran to the window, his emotions nearly suffocating him. It was no use, trying not to remember the ruins of the cozy cottage, the dead bodies of Lily and James, the wails of Harry, the green lights, the desperation and hope in Lily's eyes, the fury and hatred in James'…it was no use denying what he'd just done to Harry, no use denying to himself what _he_ would want with Harry, once he returned.

And since Harry had just survived the Killing Curse, right in front of the Death Eaters' eyes, Wormtail had a cold feeling that the little boy was not about to get off lightly.

The door opened; Wormtail turned to see Bellatrix Black, a woman whose beauty had been strangled by the loathe of humanity and the love of power, enter with a smirk on her face. He immediately moved closer to Harry, almost as if to shield him, even though he knew that Bellatrix was too sharp a woman to miss anything.

"So that's the Potter child," she said in amusement. "That's my cousin's godson."

Wormtail nodded, grinding his teeth together so they would not chatter.

"How ironic," the woman continued, bending slightly to get a better view of Harry, "that my cousin would be framed by you, Wormtail, of all people. I've always thought that as foolish and as disloyal as he was, he would not be blind in choosing his friends. Apparently, I greatly overestimated him." She reached out to touch Harry, but the boy squirmed, probably frightened by her dark and sharp fingernails.

"Leave-leave the child a-alone," Wormtail said, while Harry took refuge behind him. "Master would not like it if you harm him in anyway."

Bellatrix raised her eyebrow. "I don't think so, Wormtail," she said quietly. "I've seen him just now, and he looked absolutely furious that the Potter child survived his curse. If my husband had not shoved Nott at the last instant, the Killing Curse would have rebounded and killed him instead. I sincerely doubt that he is going to treat this Mudblood as anything more than a slave. That is, if he chooses to let him live."

"Where is he?" Wormtail asked, putting his hand in the pocket of his robes to search for a Portkey. Perhaps…

"No use escaping, Peter," Bellatrix said scornfully, correctly interpreting the real question. "Master will be here soon. He is currently speaking with a few of our friends in the Ministry, if you want to know." Her grin grew wider. "It is very useful to have connections there, you understand. This means that my cousin will get sent to Azkaban without a trial, and that the Potters' death, or this child's disappearance, would not investigated."

Before Wormtail could react, the door opened again, but a lot more violently.

"Where is the child, Wormtail?" Voldemort demanded, his red eyes scanning the room before falling upon Harry's fearful face. "Is that the one? Of course," he answered his own question. "I would recognize that scar anywhere." He looked up at Wormtail. "Step away, Wormtail, if you prefer to keep all your limbs together."

Bellatrix laughed, as she pulled Wormtail aside. "No more babysitting for you, dear Peter," she whispered.

Left exposed, Harry whimpered as Voldemort reached to touch him. However, the thin white finger recoiled as soon as it made contact with Harry's cheek. Voldemort swore, and a few black sparks shot out of his wand. On Harry's cheek, a huge bruise appeared.

"Very well," Voldemort said, his eyes narrowed. "His Mudblood mother isn't as incompetent as I believe. She has put a protective spell over this worthless child."

"A protective spell?" Bellatrix repeated. "That's not possible, my Lord. I was there, and the woman barely had any time to reach for her wand before you killed her."

"There are spells that do not require the use of a wand," Voldemort said. "Even if they are not quite as powerful, they can still leave a lingering effect of sorts. But no matter. I do not plan to kill this boy. That would be a waste, after all the efforts of erasing his existence." He snapped his fingers. "Bella, go and tell Avery and Malfoy to prepare a dungeon in the foulest wing of this mansion."

When Bellatrix left, Voldemort stood up and stepped back slightly, to regard his trophy curiously. Harry had begun to cry, waiting for Wormtail to comfort him.

"Have you ever wondered, Wormtail, what will happen if Dumbledore receives news that his only weapon against me is in my possession?" Voldemort said, fingering his wand. "And imagine the old fool's face, Wormtail, when Snape tells him that this very weapon is about to be destroyed, along with any chances that the Aurors would win."

"What are you going to do?" Wormtail said uncertainly.

Voldemort slowly drew out his wand to point at Harry's forehead, where the scar was still red and raw. "To break him. _Crucio!_"

* * *

****

A bone-chilling breeze greeted Wormtail as he descended down into the basement, seeping through the centuries-old walls with their many cracks. Bellatrix had assured him that the cell was hardly comfortable, yet he was not prepared to acknowledge that even them—even Death Eaters—would place such a young child in such an adverse place.

He spotted Harry after a moment of searching in the dimness of the morning. The child was curled into a fetal positions, eyes closed, in a futile attempt to keep warm. Although, Wormtail thought, the coldness was at most unpleasant to Harry, compared with the many curses he had to endure everyday, the many deprivations and torture that entertained Voldemort and Bellatrix, but disgusted even some of the toughest Death Eaters.

Wormtail closed his eyes when he lit a wand to see Harry better. Lily would strangle Voldemort if she could see what he'd done to her son. Harry had always been a healthy child, his eyes bright green and his hair cheerfully messy, but the toddler in the dungeon was barely more than a skeleton, with tufts of hair falling out due to malnutrition. And when Harry turned up to face Wormtail, he saw that the former intelligent and lively eyes had become dead and empty. Just like Lily's eyes, when the green light of the Killing Curse had subsided.

It was hard, trying to resist the urge to turn away and flee.

"Harry," Wormtail said softly, even though Voldemort had disallowed anyone to speak the human language around Harry. "Harry. Are you okay, Harry?"

The child no longer responded to his name, but he did react to Wormtail's voice. He slowly lifted himself up from the floor, and walked unsteadily to the bars, waiting for Wormtail to unlock the gates, when he would begin his usual morning routines. Harsh, repetitive routines that had deeply etched themselves in the boy's young mind. To him, Wormtail was just like all the others—dark, tall, imposing, and mean.

Wormtail unlocked the gates, his fingers trembling with agitation and chill. It was _freezing_, and no wonder, because there was a blizzard outside. A typical white Christmas, he thought to himself immediately, remembering the holiday he had once loved, while still at Hogwarts.

Christmas.

It was Harry's second Christmas.

Wormtail bent down and lifted the boy up, rubbing his skinny and bare arms. Harry shuddered but did not whimper. Before heading back up to the main room, Wormtail placed a Warming Spell on Harry's shirt.

He would think of an excuse later. All he knew was that he could not allow Harry to die on Christmas morning.

* * *

The Death Eaters were already assembled when Wormtail arrived, with Harry at his side, wearing the masks and holding their wands. None of them bothered to throw the two newcomers a second look besides Bellatrix. She looked down at Harry and gave a thin-lipped smirk, which indicated that she sensed the presence of a Warming Spell. However, she was too sadistic to say anything, of which Wormtail was grateful. 

"I would expect the security to be slightly looser near the Three Broomsticks, although I can almost guarantee that a few Aurors will be there," Avery was saying, a diagram conjured in midair. "Therefore, it would be much easier to attack from Gladrags. If we can set a fire and distract the others—"

"No, this is not a Muggle shop," Bellatrix said lazily. "The cloth will not catch on fire easily, and the owner is a smarter man than you'll ever me, dear. The most obvious place will be the Shrieking Shack."

"It's haunted," Crabbe said.

"Exactly my point," Bellatrix said, tapping her nails. "The foolish students and professors will just think that it is the ghouls who are cranking up trouble, while we can—"

"You're missing the point, all of you," Voldemort cut in coldly. "The point is to be conspicuous as to mislead them. Wormtail, take that Warming Spell off the boy. If I did not know any better, I would say that you are pitying him. Has he had his morning routines yet?"

"Rodolphus—"

"He's at Hogsmeade, getting ready for the attack with Severus," Malfoy drawled.

Voldemort turned and fixed a gaze on Harry, who stared back at him with a frightened expression. "What a weak child," he spat. "If he were to be stronger, perhaps I could find some use for him. Take that Warming Spell off, Wormtail. And if he does not like it, he will have to go and wait outside, as usual."

"Not in the blizzard, Master," Wormtail ventured carefully. "He'll freeze."

"There is no place in this circle for weaklings, Wormtail," Voldemort said, a slight smile playing at the corner of his lips. "On the eve of our success, I cannot be bothered with the welfare of a child, not even to torture the senile old fool who still believes that I can be defeated. Take him outside. I do not wish to see him. When you come back, I need to give you an assignment. Your Animagus form, you see, shall prove to be quite helpful…"

Dutifully, Wormtail took out his wand. "_Finite incantatem,_" he said, and the warm glow that had basked the tiny boy faded, leaving the boy shaking.

_Forgive me, Lily. Forgive me, James._

Wormtail picked Harry bodily up to keep him warm, on the pretense of preventing any struggles. Under the watchful eyes of Voldemort and Bellatrix and the Death Eaters, he slowly descended the ancient steps of the Riddle House, passed the many rooms that had not been used for decades, to the front door.

The thick mahogany door felt cold under his hand. He could only imagine how cold it would be outside. He looked out at the window—all he could see was a blurry whiteness—and then at the child whom he used to bounce on his knees and sing silly songs to.

He could not do this.

"Why are you hesitating, Wormtail?"

He recognized her taunting voice even from far away. He turned around to see Bellatrix approach, her arms crossed and her mouth twisted.

"Does hurting a small boy give you pleasure, Lestrange?" he demanded, keeping his hold on Harry. He was surprised that he did not stutter. Come to think of it, he hadn't stuttered much, not since Harry had joined them. "Harry has done nothing to you, and yet you've done nothing but…but to taunt and dehumanize him."

"Dehumanize?" Bellatrix threw her head back and laughed. "Dehumanize? What a strange choice of word, Peter. I'd prefer to think I'm rather humane, even if you do not want to agree. No, no, trust me when I say I do not want to see this boy suffer any more than you do."

Wormtail regarded her suspiciously.

"You do not believe me?" Bellatrix said sharply. "What if I tell you that I can help him?"

Her words froze in the air. Wormtail began to shake, gathering Harry closer in his arms. He did not know if he could trust Bellatrix. But she had been acting strangely lately. Before, she rarely ever acknowledged his presence, and she had been going out of her way to speak with him about Harry. And she had never offered help, nor made promises of this nature. He could not understand: "But why would you want to help him?" he whispered.

"Because," Bellatrix said, and she turned her head away at that, "because I have had a child who looked very much like Harry, a child who had been killed in a horrible death." From her pocket, she produced a ring that could only be a Portkey. "Will you trust me now?"

He did not need to answer her for Harry, as if sensing an only escape, had suddenly come to laugh. He reached out his hand—his thin hand that used to be plump and smooth—and closed his fingers around the brass ring. Bellatrix let go of the Portkey, and a few seconds later, it activated, sending Harry to an unknown place in a whirl of wind.

Wormtail stared at the spot where Harry had been only moments ago, and then regarded Bellatrix, who was wearing a satisfied smile on her face. Suspicion flowered.

"Where did you send him?"

She began up the stairs. "Peter," she said loudly so that Voldemort could hear, "I believe it is time for you to head upstairs. After all, you do not want to get Master angry." Then she turned and fixed her dark eyes on Wormtail's face. "Where I sent him?" she whispered fiendishly. "That's for me to know, and for the Potter child to find out."

The words froze his inside. Wormtail realized what she had meant, and gave Bellatrix a look of utmost loathing. Before heading up the stairs to join her, he turned toward the window, and uttered silent prayer for Harry Potter.

The snow whirled with the howling wind outside and in the distance, a static bark could be heard.

**A/N:** I realize that I devoted many paragraphs to Bellatrix, but I find her a fascinating character, and I truly do believe that she is sadistic enough to offer Harry a supposed way out, and to give me…well, give me the "enzyme" for the rest of the plot. I hope you can understand her psychology. As for Peter, I hope I portrayed his struggles realistically. He is a human, after all, and you can't expect him to watch his best friends' only son suffer like this. Right? /

I realize that the plot is _far_ from original, but I plan to write it as an A/U of OoTP; well, tweaking canon to make this a believable story. I've always been fascinated by accounts of feral children, and I want to apply their struggles to Harry in order to make it realistic in the HP universe.

I think there's some kind of a ruling against message board chats or something. So to recap everything: **I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review! **It's Halloween, folks! Share the candy and the love!


End file.
